Every Mountain is Unclimbable
by Cocohorse
Summary: A bunch of RobertxCora one-shots and drabbles from different points of their relationship. Inspired by GranthamGal's "Falling Stars". Each one-shot is a response to a randomized prompt from imagineyourotp. My second fanfic; reviews welcomed!
1. Fixing Up

Hello! If you've read GranthamGal's fanfic, "Falling Stars", here on FanFiction, this is something like it. If you haven't read her fanfic, I encourage you to read it! Very cute RobertxCora one-shots. This is NOT a continuation, or even something to compare to it, but it's more of my own take at it.

I'll follow her own guidelines: 1. Every one-shot is based on a prompt from the Tumblr blog, imagineyourotp - 2. Every prompt is randomized, and I HAVE to do whatever I get - 3. Everything is RobertxCora!

I'll try to update it a lot, but God knows that I'm a horrible procrastinator who's not good at all with long-term projects. XD I don't know when I'll stop, but I'll be going on for a while. I can't promise you anything, and I'm not a very good writer, but I hope you enjoy my stories!

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**Imagine your OTP getting ready for a formal event. Person A's tie isn't tightened enough and Person B fixes it for them. Then Person B pulls Person A by the tie in for a kiss and, just as it's starting to get good, smirks and mutters that they have to leave. Person A is left with ruffled hair, red cheeks and a whispered promise of more in their ear.**

It was going to be the first party the couple would have since Mary's, their first child, birth. Aunt Rosamund, his sister, had dropped in that very morning, with yet another man in the crook of her arm. All his mother could mutter grimly about behind Rosamund's back was about "her and men older than her own brother". But luckily, his mother didn't bring out her claws this time, and for that he was grateful. Everyone was more or less quiet with joy at the fact of there being another Crawley in the household. It wasn't too much of a hard delivery, but through the anxiety and worry a beautiful, healthy daughter was born. Even the footmen and servants moved with more meaning, always murmuring a "congratulations" of some sort whenever the proud mother or father swept by with their baby in the arms.

And he was proud. At any given moment, Robert Crawley had at least a small smile on his lips, enlarged at any mention of his successful child. He wasn't too upset over the fact that their child didn't turn out to be a boy, for heir reasons, but he was still very, very proud. Since him and Cora had finally grown closer together over their years after a hurried and pushed marriage, Robert had come to love her more and more each day. Finally they came to a point where they could share looks across a crowded room, or mouth something under a breath and the other would understand. It was much preferred over their awkward silences and stares and spats while they courted, and even well into a year of their marriage they had issues with each other.

"Remind Carson to buy me a new bowtie," Robert stated matter-of-factly as he watched his valet produce a shiny black bowtie from a drawer. As his valet came forward to dress him in it, he turned around to face the long mirror and continued. "This one is starting to loosen at the seams."

"Very well, Your Lordship," his valet cleared his throat and responded, his hands faltering a little as he tied the bowtie around his collar. Then Robert saw in the background of his mirror his valet holding out his dinner coat, so he routinely slipped both arms into the sleeves.

"Thank you," he muttered as his valet finished brushing his coat. With the door held open for him, he walked dignified out of his dressing room. In one of the long hallways to the dining room, he noticed his lab, Pharaoh, following him not-so discreetly from behind, his claws clicking on the hardwood floor that gaped between the rugs. "Go on, boy," Robert argued with not too much effort, turning around to meet the yellow puppy. "Go on." But instead of making a leave, his dog commenced to bark excitedly, probably going on a craze because of the cologne he was wearing. Huffing in half-annoyance under his breath, the earl gently picked up the puppy and started back down the hall.

"Robert?" Looking to his left, he saw his wife Cora and her maid come up to him from another hallway.

"Here." He shifted Pharaoh over to the maid, who in turn curtsied and then left with the dog.

"What were you doing with the dog? Bringing it to the dinner, perhaps?" Cora managed a small laugh in the quiet hallway, the sound of the dinner being readied coming from a few doors down.

"Not that Mother would appreciate its presence, I'm afraid," he replied with a smile, restlessly glancing down the hallway. "Let's go."

"Wait." He watched with surprise as Cora stepped towards him, reaching out her small hands. Silently he waited, almost embarrassed, as she fiddled with his bowtie. "It's falling out."

"I told Mr. Watson to notify Mr. Carson about it," he quickly assured, his voice dropping low as he noticed how close to him she was. A few moments later, he blurted, "We'll be late, dear. Do you want me to ring for -"

"- There." She took a step back, drawing her hands away from his chest. With her gazing at his face, and him somewhat restless because of it, he noticed how lovely Cora was looking tonight in her new black dress.

Fine. They could stare at each other later for as long as they wanted, but Robert wanted to go. He sharply turned away from her towards the dining room, but he didn't get the chance to move further as she snatched him by his bowtie and drew him into a kiss. He didn't fight back despite his initial instincts, and instead he kissed her back harder. It was a passionate battle between their lips, and shortly his arms were around her waist, and her hands were in his soft hair.

He let out a loud intake of breath as they pulled apart for air, his skin heating up and his eyes blinking with shock. Since when did his sweet and quiet-natured wife began doing this sort of thing? Especially when someone could come barreling down the hall to view this unruly display? Her after-birth hormones, he supposed. But it wasn't like he just stood there and did nothing, either. "I -" Robert began.

"- Your mother should be wondering what the waiting is for." She put her lips to his reddening ears and whispered, "Later." Then Cora gave him a smile - or was it a smirk? God knows - and walked soundly away from him without pausing or waiting for him.

Robert could only stare dumbly at where she disappeared into the dining room, his mind reeling. Half-heartedly remembering his duty, he peered into the mirror that hung on the wall beside him, fixing his ruffled hair and trying to cool down. And then he frowned slightly as he caught sight of something in the mirror. His bowtie was falling again.

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Thanks! This is my second fanfic that I've ever written, so reviews would be greatly welcomed!


	2. Nothing Lasts

Thank you so much for the immediate response to my first chapter! As my first successful (I hope!) fanfic, I love to hear your guys' feedback.

CHRISTMAS SPECIAL SPOILERS!

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**Imagine your OTP driving home from a wedding of a mutual friend when a drunk driver crashes their vehicle into the driver's side; Person A is killed instantly on impact and Person B wakes up in the hospital after being in a coma for a few weeks. Disoriented and confused they beg the nursing staff where Person A is only to find out that they didn't make it.**

Cora felt Robert's fingers curl around her gloved hand. She smiled softly, watching his face's expressions in the car's window. Exhausted but happy.

Dr. Richard Clarkson's and Cousin Isobel Crawley's wedding came out of nowhere. Of course the two had been working together in the hospital for almost ten years, but no one even saw it coming. Only Robert's mother scoffed at everyone, telling them that she saw it coming, of course. But it was great news. Finally something good arrived after Matthew's ill-fated car crash.

"Do you think it will last?" he mused under his breath, with a hint of amusement in his voice. He was wearing a smart suit with a flower pinned to his lapel, and he was glancing at his wife who sat on his left.

"Robert!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in mock-disapproval and eliciting a chuckle from him. She squeezed his hand and sighed, saying nothing more.

He let out a long breath as if he was holding it. "We lasted, didn't we, dear?" His blue eyes sparkled, the dappled sunlight filtering in through the windows of the sides of the car and lighting up his smile. It was probably his first genuine, unguarded smile ever since his son-in-law died.

"Please don't be so melodramatic, Robert." Cora rubbed his arm as they smiled tiredly together, and with a sigh she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Only Robert saw the car coming.

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Opening her eyes was harder than she could ever imagine. It drained every bit of the strength remaining out of her and left her almost breathless. At first, only darkness swirled before her, swamping her vision. But little punctures of light broke through, and a hazy, fuzzy world opened around her. Every single noise that approached her stiff ears sounded louder and hurt.

A foggy-looking Cousin Isobel in a nurse's clothing was looking down at here with rapt attention. The older woman seemed very worried and upset indeed, and she held Cora's hand as she started to slip back into the real world.

Cora opened her mouth as to say something, but nothing came out. She groaned quietly and shut her eyes again to welcome back the blackness, barely being able to comprehend her surroundings and her thoughts.

She woke again a few hours later to find that Cousin Isobel was still hovering over her with a jug of water sitting beside her. But this time, an eagle-eyed Dr. Clarkson studied her every movement, but a relieved smile tainted his lips. "Are you feeling all right?" he whispered as to not jolt Cora too much.

It took her a few moments to think and reply. "I believe..." she responded shakily and tentatively, surprising herself with the soreness of her own voice, "... so." She could just manage to swivel her eyes to the two people watching her.

"Cora," Cousin Isobel whispered softly, crouching beside her pillow and head. Usually she and Cora got along badly, but this time was different. Pain flooded Cousin Isobel's eyes and threatened to flow over. "Do you know what happened?" The nurse's voice came out cracked.

"Of course she doesn't," Dr. Clarkson shot back, but there was no sign of annoyance or anger in his tone. He seemed equally as subdued as Cousin Isobel, which confused Cora even more.

At once, all her words came rushing. "Why am I here?" Cora questioned, her voice wavering with growing confusion, "Why are you here instead of on your honeymoon? What happened?"

"Well," Dr. Clarkson began, closing the drawstrings to the drapes that enclosed the three and then turning back to her. It seemed as if there was a lot of weight on his stooping shoulders that now bent with exhaustion. "You were in a car crash."

Before Cora could argue or think over what he just said, Cousin Isobel put in, "You were on your way home from our wedding. A drunk man crashed into your car, killing your driver and injuring your internal organs and your hip."

No words could come out of Cora's mouth. She tried to remember, racking her sleepy mind for answers. "And - and - Robert?" she stammered as fear hit her, shooting her head up.

"Rest now," Cousin Isobel murmured while trying to push Cora back down, but even she looked like on the verge of tears.

"Where's Robert?" Cora choked out, staring in absolute horror and dread at the doctor and the nurse. "Where is my husband?!"

"- Cora." Dr. Clarkson was in pain, and his head was bent down, hiding his darkening face. "He is -"

"- Is he badly hurt?!" she begged. Cora started to fight with her weak arms, tears already breaking free from her eyes. "Tell me! Where is he?!" She tried to stand up, but the stabbing pain in her hip shot up and down her spine, forcing her to lay back in the hospital bed, gasping.

"I'm so sorry. So, so sorry." Cousin Isobel was squeezing her hand, her body shaking with a sob. "Robert - your husband - is gone."

Her stomach dropped and she just blinked, gaping. Wondering. "... What?" But it wasn't that she misheard. She knew what was said, but she just wanted her to say something else. Anything else.

The three were quiet, not saying a word. From somewhere else in the hospital, a baby let out a loud wail.

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Yeah, I'm kind of a Richobel shipper, too. XD

Woooo, so much yummy cliche-ness. :P Bear with me guys, bear with me. The last sentence is a nod to another story. Forgot what it was. Something sci-fi related that I had to read in school?

_Guest 2: Thank you for the correction! I must remember it now!_

Thanks for reading and please review!


	3. Reused Thoughts

Can't believe how fast I'm popping these guys out. I'm actually posting them the same day I've started and finished writing them. Hopefully, I'll keep this up; fingers crossed!

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**Imagine your OTP's children waking them up early on Christmas morning.**

White snow floated in light layers from the heavens to touch the cold, barren earth, now empty as the last wild flowers died from the oncoming frost. It was a sight to see all the dark horses, with their hot breaths creating wisps in the nipping air, trot to and fro the estate and its surrounding cottages. Every Christmas Eve was an amazing night, one with last-minute cakes being drawn out of the ovens and three young girls bouncing and squealing from sugar rush. Blushes and kisses were frequent and shared under a well-positioned mistletoe, and presents and "Merry Christmas" greetings were traded at every passing moment.

The many people who lived in Downton had already gone off to their warm, welcoming beds, murmuring their tired wishes and blessings to each other as each door shut one by one. Several plans had to be made before Christmas to ensure yet another beautiful Christmas Day. Guests, from high members of society to long-distance relatives, flooded in and out, creating a never-ending rush of busy work. But only late at night did everything in the large home slow down, and the usual bustling was replaced by a peaceful quietness that echoed through the house's halls.

Such serenity was appreciated by Robert Crawley, who had been sending orders and managing gifts and guests the entire day. Just a couple hours of sleep would hopefully revive his energy to bring forth all the merriness and cheer needed for the following day. His aging hair was all mussed from him scratching at it when he was in deep thought, which happened a lot that very eve, and his usual studious, intelligent eyes were cast over with exhaust. But still, a merry and joyful fire burned in him, and it sent him to bed with a smile on his worn face.

"What did you get the staff?" asked Robert, standing over their bed in the soft, flickering candlelight. He untied his deep red robe with quick fingers, letting it drop from his sturdy-built frame onto the floor. He bent over to pick it up and then set it on the chair in the corner.

His wife, Cora, watched him slip under the bed sheets beside her. "New clothes. Books. Useful things." She smiled, reaching over to rub his shoulder.

He let out a content sigh, smiling back with relief from her nice rub on his strained shoulder. "Again?" A teasing, warm laugh escaped his lips.

His laugh tickled her ear, and she stopped rubbing his shoulder to look him in the eye with matching joking smile. "You know they like it very, very much, sweetie."

"What do they say? That it is the thought that counts?" He broke into a grin, looking as if he was about to laugh himself silly. "A very reused thought, I must say."

"Oh, yes?" There was a challenge in Cora's voice. She nestled onto his chest, covered with a thin, striped nightgown. "Would you prefer if you did the shopping?"

"Touché." Robert placed a small kiss on the top of her head, then stretched out his arm to turn off the light. The room fell all at once into a soft blackness.

"Goodnight," he said in a resounding tone, gently resting his head on hers. His honey-like voice, so wonderful in its own sleepy way, coaxed her into sleep.

"Goodnight, and Merry Christmas, dear."

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_Oof._ Robert scrambled upright in the bed, getting himself tangled up in the sheets. "Girls!" he exclaimed with surprise - even though he should have seen it coming. He let out a wheeze that stunned him, feeling a heavy weight knocking the air out of his lungs. "You're getting too heavy!"

The little Mary, Edith, and Sybil jumped between Cora and him, chanting at the top of their lungs: "Presents! Presents! Presents!"

By then, Robert and Cora stirred awake, sitting up in their bed with the girls squirming all over them, peppering kisses everywhere. Amid the Christmas morning chaos, Robert smiled and hugged Cora, who was trying to brush the frenzied hair of her daughters.

He smiled tiredly. Apparently one night of sleep didn't make up for all the lost hours he spent for that very day. "And I thought every Christmas was a tedious, dull routine."

She hugged him back, kissing him on the cheek, which caused the girls to cry out "_ewww_". "It's the thought that counts," she said, mimicking him.

"But very reused."

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Hope you guys like. :p Every review keeps my spirit going, so review, review, review! Thanks for reading. c:


	4. Jumper's High

Of course this prompt was a bit iffy, since it wasn't even invented yet. I mean, I actually had to look up what it was. :P I usually just call it "inflatables" or whatever. But I still had to do it!

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**Imagine your OTP jumping on a moonbounce together.**

She had to excuse herself early from the party. Suspicious glances from the dining table were casted at her, but she barely noticed them as she left, a curious sway in her step. Inside her bubbled a sort of excitement, a sort of frenzy. But what for? Cora didn't know, and she just wanted to sleep it out. Her maid, O'Brien, trailed her from behind like an obedient dog, consistently shooting questions of Her Ladyship's well being.

Finally in her bedroom, Cora whipped around to face O'Brien, who nearly recoiled from her sudden movement. Was she going to lash out at her? But instead, the Countess had a large, goofy smile playing on her face, which may have been more surprising. "Get out!" she demanded, but it did not sound demanding in the least bit. It was more of a giggle.

"My Lady," O'Brien began hesitantly, "I think you may have accidentally slipped yourself something too strong to drink." She took a cautious step toward Cora.

"I see." She frowned for a brief moment as if the sober part of her was fighting with her current state.

O'Brien mirrored her frown, but hers was more etched with worry. "My Lady, let me get you some -"

A few raps at the door interrupted them, and a voice called, "Cora, dear, are you alright?" The bedroom door opened slightly, and Robert Crawley's head poked in. He scanned at the apparent situation, where Cora looked a little uncertain on her feet and O'Brien was clearly unhappy. "You may go, Mrs. O'Brien," he instructed, standing back in the doorway, then to which the maid frowned again and left, brushing past him.

He shut the door gently behind him, and then turned to stare profoundly at his wife as she playfully shimmied and giggled into his arms. "Cora," he chuckled, confused yet amused as he gave her a little squeeze. "You're ridiculously drunk."

"Am I?" She threw her head back in a laugh, her hair a dark brown river that flowed over her shoulders. Springing away from his grasp with a snicker, Cora started humming a happy tune in front of him.

He smiled back at her, picking up on the tune. Her ditsy manner was infectious, and pretty soon his arms were around her waist, both of them swaying to the music in their ears. Suddenly, she broke free and grabbed him by his wrist, pulling him onto the bed. But instead of what he though was going to happen, she took a giant jump into the air, pushing her feet against the mattress and the bed sheets.

"Jumping? On the bed?" He was astounded, but before he could protest, Cora landed heavily, bucking him into the air with the force. Quickly, Robert gave in, letting out a loud huff of genuine amusement as he plopped back down onto the bed.

This continued for a long time. The two grinned wildly together, holding each others sweaty hands as they took turns doing acrobatic leaps that resulted into a tangle of laughs and sheets. But then they would pick themselves up and jump again, exhilarated by each others stupid behavior.

They finally fell down on the bed simultaneously, completely worn out and exhausted. Cora's face was red, and a trickle of sweat crossed down Robert's forehead.

After several minutes of them breathing heavily, he let out a huge sigh that he didn't know he was holding. "That was so very out of character for me. For both of us," Robert panted, his hand brushing his out-of-place hair and wrinkled suit. He inhaled and exhaled again loudly, blinking the sweat out of his eyes and staring up at the blank ceiling. "But that was..." Pausing, he turned his head to glance over at Cora.

She was fast asleep, passed out in a sprawl. A faint smile was glistening on her flushed face. Still in her dinner dress, she actually looked sound and peaceful.

"... fun," he finished, reaching over to give her a peck on the cheek before leaving the room.

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Just a random, dumb drabble for kicks. Again, thanks for reading. C: Remember, reviews make my day!


	5. Chaos and Champagne

D'aww. Thank you for the kind reviews, guys. c: But I don't mind critical reviews as well, so don't be afraid~. Oh, and thanks so much, Guest 2!

Oh goodness, I LOVE this prompt. / So adorable.

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**Imagine your OTP holding hands for the first time, and the moment their hands meet, butterflies fill both their stomachs and they smile bashfully at each other.**

"I was thinking, Miss Levinson," Robert Crawley began, looking up from his morning papers. He earnestly watched Cora stop sipping her tea to glance at him curiously. "Would... Would you like to go on a picnic with me later this noon?" he asked, trying to feel confident, but knowing he was failing miserably inside.

She blinked and gave him a tiny smile, lightly setting the cup down on the table. "The two of us?" she queried, slightly raising a brow in question.

"Well -" He saw out the corner of his eyes his parents watching him with equal interest, silently listening into his conversation. "- Yes." Clearing his throat, he continued, "If there is any problem with that, then -"

"- Oh, no. There isn't a problem at all." Cora nodded, then resumed her tea as she had left off.

He paused. "So, yes?" he quickly put in, wanting to make sure. Did she agree on his question? He could barely think. Probably not enough coffee. Then he inwardly winced at his outrighteous behavior, shutting his eyes for a second as a wave of internal shame washed over him.

"Yes, of course," she assured, seemingly grateful of his kind offer, "Thank you." Standing up from the table, she murmured, "I'm going up to my room."

Robert stared at her as she left and sighed into his papers, somewhat disappointed in himself. That could have went a lot cleaner on his part.

After a few moments of thought, he stood up as well and exited the room without further touching his breakfast.

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"Thank you for coming along," he chattered rather nonchalantly, holding a smooth brown wicker basket in the crook of his arm. He was dressed in complementary light browns and grays, and a new, smart hat sat on his well-groomed head nicely. With a few hours of preparation, he had already steeled his nerves, ordered a splendid lunch, and dressed in one of the best outfits money could buy. Robert was back into his usual self in front of her, all stoic and cool under pressure.

"And thank you for inviting me." Cora smiled brightly, walking at a leisurely pace beside him. A lovely violet dress flowed around her in the bouncy spring breeze, and her pinned-up hair fought against the bow that held it neatly together. She appeared genuinely happy to be along with him, especially outside on a beautiful day.

Walking at a friendly - and only friendly - distance apart, they made their way over to a secluded, open clearing beside a running, sparkling brook that broke through the large clump of trees at the edge of the estate. The water rushed over the pebbles in the bed, creating a never-ending crashing sound that was that filled the wind. Little wildflowers poked through the earth, and once every few moments a strong chirp of a songbird rang out into the clear air. The couple chose a spot right by the bank of the brook, a grassy path nestled around a colorful array of young flowers.

Robert smiled proudly to himself when he saw how awed Cora was by their location. He had swiftly laid out the picnic blanket, and was then placing the a few plates of food on top. Watching her admire the scenery made him happy, and as he poured some champagne into two glasses, he heard her laugh.

Cora was standing on the bank, watching the water run past her. She gave him a cheerful, little wave and a smile, and he waved politely back at her, holding up a glass of champagne. She hurried over to him, and she sat down across from him on the other side of the blanket.

"I saw a some tiny fish, trying to swim up the current," she remarked, taking the glass eagerly. "They are like small silver arrows shooting through the water. Not very successfully, I'm afraid." She patted her knee and took a sip.

His eyes travelled to the sky above them, and he looked thoughtful. "Yes," he responded after a sip, "It's that time of year again. They do it all the time."

She continued, almost enthusiastically. "And there was this bird. A fisher type of bird." She held her hands close together to empathize the shape and size of the bird. "It kept swooping down to get the poor fish! It was very beautiful, though. Green or blue, perhaps."

"Yes, yes." He was still gazing up at the skies, his eyes away from her. The glass was held to his mouth, but he wasn't drinking from it.

She quieted, noticing his weak attention on her. "And then the flowers..." Cora tried, but drifted off mid-sentence. "Mr. Crawley?" It was almost like a question. She stared at him, trying to interpret him.

At his name, Robert sharply looked at her, but his gaze softened. "I apologize, Miss Levinson," he simply said, putting down his glass. "I was just distracted."

"By what?" There was no tone of accusation in her voice, but pure interest.

He pointed up at the sky. "The clouds. Look."

To his surprise, she moved closer to him and got on her back. How American! he thought, his mouth dropping a bit by her out-of-the-blue movement. Her eyes swiveled up to the puffy white clouds that drifted on the blue backdrop. They were lovely. Her eyes or the sky? Both.

"Lay down," she whispered without leaving her eyes from the sky.

He was practically incredulous. "What?" he questioned, his voice louder.

"There's no harm to it."

Robert felt naturally obliged to do whatever she said, and with a grunt, he propped himself down on his back rather ungracefully, his head resting on the folds of the blue blanket.

Cora shot a glance and a smile at him, and he, without thinking, responded a gentle nudge of his elbow. Instantly, a shot of electricity coursed through him as he met her side, and he quickly retracted his elbow away. Instead of Cora immediately flinching and recoiling at his sudden touch as he had predicted, she laughed. He felt a relieved, and maybe a delighted, smile tug on his lips.

They continued watching the clouds slowly make their way across the sky, laying in a peaceful silence between them. The sounds of the rustling leaves and crashing brook soon faded away from their ears as they enjoyed their time together. Nothing else seemed to exist then and there except for the two.

At first, only a tiny splat was barely heard, but it was quickly followed by Cora's piercing shriek. Robert was on his feet in no time, an unimaginable level of fear running down his spine. "Cora!" he shot out in exclamation, using her first name. He drew in closer to her, accessing her bewildered state.

"Bird!" she cried out, her arms waving around her, indicating the dripping white mess on her dress. The stuff was splattered on neck, and it was beginning to spill and pool down her chest.

"Oh, thank heavens!" He smacked his forehead as another smile of relief broke out on his face, but when she gave him an angry look, saying, _Look at my dress! It's ruined!,_ he jumped forward with a handful of white napkins as if he was her savior.

"Thank you, thank you," she murmured in appreciation. She was watching his eyes as he focused on gently wiping the mess on her neck, careful not to spread it around to much.

He said nothing in reply, and his hand loosened as he felt the way his fingertips glided on her smooth collarbone. It was a bit inappropriate to think of such thoughts, he knew, grimacing to himself as he realized he was slightly gaping, while there was the unspeakable all over her. But he couldn't help himself. She was very beautiful and lovely.

"Let me take that. Thank you," Cora intervened softly, noticing him pausing in his work. He seemed flustered and uncertain because the rest of the mess was on, well, her chest. Robert ducked his head down in embarrassment and handed her a new set of clean napkins, turning away from her as she continued where he left off.

A minute later, she finished. Robert was still turned away from her, looking in the distance as if he was thinking. Cora walked up behind him, and without saying a word, he spun around and took her hand into his.

"You look very beautiful today, Miss Levinson," he said quietly, a warm blush creeping past his bashful half-smile. His stomach flipped over, threatening to release the champagne he hand drank earlier.

"Thank you. You look very handsome yourself," she replied, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

He squeezed her hand as her fingers melted into his own. God, he was so lucky to have such a wonderful woman by his side. Never until now he knew how much luck he had when he got to be with her. They stood there for a while in their own awkward silence, exchanging equally-shy smiles.

"Did we clean our hands?" Robert said finally, breaking the silence.

"Not very well, at least."

"Oh." But he didn't let go.

"Yes." Neither did she.

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asdfghjkl. uwu Can you give oneself feels while writing? Apparently, yes, you can!

Reviews appreciated!


	6. The Great Outdoors

So sorry for the delay!

I got a bad prompt that I just couldn't work with. It was too complicated, and involved way too much writing, and it had a lot of M-rated stuff. I know some of you guys don't mind those, but this is just a mild series of one-shots. :P

Also,

_My dad stumbled upon my fanfictions the night before. _When I should have uploaded this.

Yeah, that was pretty horrific. He just grabbed the iPad on which I wrote all my stories and fanfics on, and then he opened it up and was instantly re-directed to my last fanfic. "_'Rough Draft'_?" he echoed, and I I literally had a mini spazz attack. I could barely restrain myself from lunging over the table to snatch the iPad and throw it out the nearest window. And then my sister yelled, "SHE'S WRITING ABOUT KATNISS AND PEETA OOOOH". I don't even do HG fanfics xD? But all in all, he shocked me by exiting out of my fanfic without another look, saying that it was "privacy". Thank god, or I wouldn't be writing this.

Okay. Back to the story. X3

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**Imagine person A of your OTP carrying person B everywhere after B breaks their leg.**

"Are you tired?" Cora leaned forward from her seat to feel his warm forehead, a worried frown etched on her face. "You should rest. Dr. Clarkson told me that you need at least 6 hours of rest in bed during the day."

Robert Crawley shifted in the bed, clearly annoyed. "Dr. Clarkson..." he began, but he paused before he could talk smack about him. "... is an old man with clouded thoughts," he finished, rolling over onto his side to watch her response.

"But isn't he about the same age as you?" Shaking her head in half-amusement, she took a moist towel and pressed it to his head.

He rolled his eyes, laying still and quietly as she cooled him down. After she withdrew, he sat up and protested indignantly, "I want to go outside."

"But Dr. Clark -"

"- What does he know?" His piercing blue eyes flashed with eagerness. Robert started to slide off the bed in his pajamas, swinging his working left leg off the side.

"More than you." But Cora didn't raise a finger to stop him, and she was immediately at his side to help him get off the high-raised bed.

Leaning gratefully on her, Robert hobbled out of the room with his cane, feeling victorious for once. He wanted to breathe in the fresh summer air, to feel the cool lake breeze on him. The past few days he was a prisoner in the dull house, usually confined into their bedroom for most of the day. Only during a brunch and dinner would he get up and get dressed, but otherwise his bed kept him captive. At least Cora was always at the ready and by his side through the entire ridiculous ordeal, helping him move around the home. Why did he have to go hunting that day? Why did they have to take the snake-riddened trail?

At the stairs, they paused, almost nervously. He felt Cora's arm tighten in his grasp, and step by step they descended down the top of the stairs. At the bottom, Richard squeezed her arm and muttered, "One second, darling," and with that, he gave himself a few moments to catch his breath. It wasn't that it was neccessarily tiring or winding, but for some odd reason he always went into a small panic. Maybe it was the claustrophobia that was building in the bedroom that he had to let go.

"Robert..." Her face dropped. "Do you want your crutches?"

"No," he intervened. He hated how useless and weak he looked in them, always wobbling and tilting from room to room. And besides, his cane was enough, and he was comforted by Cora's presence right next to him. "I'm all right. Perfectly all right," he assured quickly, patting her hand, and he began to pull on her arm towards the door.

Their feet crunched under the gravel that lined the driveway in front of the house. It was midday, and the sun was still at full-strength, beating its rays down on the pair. Even though Cora tipped her large hat down to block the shine and the heat from her face, Robert embraced it fully and with an equally-bright smile. Never did a simple walk already felt so good on his joints and limbs, whether or not his faulty right leg could endure the sluggish, but relaxing, pace.

They stopped, and he held his cane up to the sky, pointing at the rolling green-yellow hills in the distance that seemed to blur under the summer warmth. "Downton can be just so wonderful at any given moment in the year," he exclaimed, filling his lungs with the invigorating air. The earl was practically beaming with pride, his thoughts about his injury gone with the breeze; this was what he had put his life forth on, to maintain the estate's well condition.

Cora nodded in agreement, and concurred, "That was what I was just thinking. It wasn't a bad idea to take you out, wasn't it?"

"Of course it wasn't." Robert's eyes rolled back, and they started off again down the road. "Besides, not you, the girls, the staff, or even Mama or Dr. Clarkson could keep me inside like a caged parrot. I would have found a way, anyways."

They continued in a peaceful silence until they haulted once again, now with Cora defying, "We should head back now, dear."

"Nonsense," he spat, trudging and pulling her along without missing a heartbeat. He was stuck in the "outdoorsy" mood. After a few feet, he caught himself and apologized, stopping yet again. "Excuse me, Cora. I didn't mean to snap at you. Or drag you with me." A sad smile graced his lips. "But I want to continue."

His wife was undaunted, but she still went with him. "Well, do not blame me if we arrive back with you in a sweltering mess."

Slightly relieved, Robert stepped forward. "Thank you, Cora. I -" He was cut-off because he misjudged his step and crashed his good leg into a mud-filled trench in the dirt ground, splashing the dark brown liquid all over his pants.

"Robert!" cried Cora as he released his arm from hers.

Cursing under his breath, he staggered back to his feet, swaying rather precariously. "Good Lord..." Robert growled, grimacing as the mud soaked through the thin fabric and on to his skin. He took Cora's outstretched arm and wobbled out of the trench.

"Are you hurt?" she questioned.

"No, no." He casted an angry glance in the direction of the mud trench that seemed to be mocking him for his misstep. Suddenly, his eyes blazed. "My cane! It's in there!"

"Do you want me to get it?"

"No, no," he repeated, "You're only get dirty, too. I'm already covered up with mud, so I'll get it." This time, he stood on the edge of the trench, placing his feet on the ground firmly. Crouching, he reached out with one hand, holding onto Cora with the other, and snatched the cane that was sinking in the mud. "Got it!" He backtracked away from the trench, but before he could go far, he slipped on a puddle that had formed when he had gotten out earlier. He landed on his back on the moist dirt, wheezing.

"All right. Let's go back," he muttered as Cora grabbed him by the arms. "The outdoors isn't that much better, really."

* * *

Thank you! You guys are awesome. |D I'll try to make it up to my readers.

Oh, by the way, I'm starting my first year at my new school in few days. This time it's serious, because it's an important year of school that could define my future and career and blahblah. That means way less more updates. Parents said no Internet-use at all until I finish my homework (which is usually around 5 pm), and I can't use it all night (bedtime curfew is like 9. horrible, huh?) Do you know how long it takes to write? I'm a fast typer, but I spend like 2 hours on each one-shot, usually more because of me wandering off and taking breaks. And then I also have other sites, like deviantART, which is my main online priority, and Instagram, where I run several popular accounts. And then I have a personal life! (Not really) So. Yeah.

Hope you guys can wait a while for every update. c:


	7. Meeting IRL

Thanks for the amazing reviews, guys. Making my day, as always. c;

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**Imagine meeting your OTP in real life.**

"Are you _serious?!_" I howled in anger, punching the pause button with my finger. I whipped my headphones off and burrowed myself deeper into the sofa, facepalming myself. Consumed with an overwhelming amount of feels that threatened to drown me, I muttered, "Stupid, stupid. God, Edith, that editor guy is so into you." In the growing darkness, the glowing flicker of the screen illuminated the side of the room.

"He's way too old for her, though." Rebekah, sitting beside me, crossed her arms. Yet again, I had forced her - really forced, having to practically tie her up next to me with blankets - to watch another episode of the show that killed me every time I watched it: _Downton Abbey_.

I snorted. Hah, talk to anyone I knew (online), and they would think differently. Like, I would literally go after that perfect pair of cheekbones if society allowed it. But instead, I shrugged and said, "Back then, they didn't -"

"_Ssh!_" Rebekah froze like a deer in headlights. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" I rose a brow, craning my head to hear.

She was alert. "Be quiet!" she hissed, grabbing on to my arm tightly. Her eyes flew open with fear.

"I don't hear anything," I spat crossly, yanking my arm from her grasp. "Just -"

Voices. Hushed voices. Hushes voices conversing with each other outside the door of our flat.

Rebekah huddled closer to me. I could practically feel her anxiety rubbing on me. "God, Natalie, who would be up this late?"

"Just ignore it," I tried to assure her, listening closely to the voices. They would probably go away if they knew we weren't home. At least the lights were off.

But the voices grew louder, and my friend looked like she was about to flip out. Even I felt a sort of nervousness creep up on me, but I wouldn't let it get the better of me. I stood up despite Rebekah's whispered protests and pleads, and slinked towards the door with my softball bat at the ready. It rested on my shoulder, capable of knocking out the two people - a male and a female, it seemed - who were on the other side of the door.

"Who's there?" I questioned loudly, making my voice as dangerous as I could manage, even though I was practically shaking in my pj bottoms. I pressed my head against the door, studying the response.

A female voice rose. "Dear, answer the man!"

_Man?!_ Were they serious?! I gripped the bat harder, ready to come down on the two if they came crashing through the door.

The male cleared his throat, and quietly said, "My wife and I have somehow managed to arrive in front of your doorstep in this -" He paused, sounding uncertain in his deep, rough voice. "- Unfamiliar area."

I stayed silent, calculating my next move in my head. Rebekah hid herself in the blankets, cellphone in hand. Should I tell them to push off?

I hesitated, and then, in my dangerous voice, challenged, "And what would you like me to do?"

"Tell him that we need a ride back! Or some directions! Or a hotel to stay!" the female insisted.

"I know, I know," the male grumbled. "I can't believe on God's earth on how we got here. The chauffeur dropped us off in the storm, and then -"

"- Wait," I surprised myself saying, interrupting them. The way he said "chauffeur" sounded funny. In a familiar way. "Rebekah, listen!" I urged, waving her over.

"May we come in?" the male voice said, sounding like he was becoming upset.

"Open the door," I whispered to Rebekah, who held the door handle. She stared in fright up at me, seemingly smaller in her pink robe in the darkness. Like a bandage, she whipped the door open quickly, letting the door smash on the other side of the wall. I held my bat over my head, ready to strike.

The lady in front of us screamed. I screamed. Rebekah screamed. The man flinched, but didn't say anything.

"Oh my god," Rebekah gasped as we took the two strangers' appearances in, realization shaking her. A handsome man in a suit with brown eyes and slicked back graying hair watched us with just as much shock, and the equally-good-looking woman beside him in a fur coat covered her mouth in shock.

I placed down my bat slowly, my jaw hitting the floor in astonishment. "Hugh Bonneville?! Elizabeth McGovern?!" I choked, struck speechless.

The man - Hugh Bonneville? - frowned. "Excuse me?" he queried, his apparent, recognizable English accent smacking me in the face. "Who is -"

"Wait - aren't you - your TV show - we just watched - the earl or something - and wife..." The words fell out of Rebekah's mouth as she gaped at the two people on our doorstep.

"Oh, yes!" The man finally smiled, quite relieved. "Yes, you've heard of me. Lord Grantham, and my wife, the Countess of Grantham."

I could barely speak. How did these famous, prestigious actors arrive here at my flat in all places? "Come - come in," I stammered with a stupid grin on my face, standing back.

"Hiding from the paparazzi?" Rebekah mused. She stepped back to let them pass in through the door, and we watched as they sat at the island in our kitchen, acting funny as they climbed up onto the sleek modern swivel chairs. Bending over to me, she whispered, "Why are they in character?"

Shrugging, I murmured, "Who knows." I really didn't know. I rolled my eyes. "You ask that, but you don't wonder why movie stars are here?"

"I have different priorities."

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I really loved this prompt, but I'm so sorry that I didn't continue/finish this. But I guess it would take way too long to. :x If you guys really want, maybe I can do a continuation; a pretty short one at that, hopefully. I ended it really horribly, roughly, weirdly, but then again, when is a good, short ending?

Anyways, thanks again for reading~!


	8. White & Pink Peonies

I hope this wonderful prompt makes up for my failing recent chapters.

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**Imagine person A finding out what person B's favourite flowers are and giving them a whole bouquet of them as a surprise.**

She must be in her room.

His hands sweated at his sides, and he had to wipe his reddening palms on his black dress pants several times before he felt a little better. He could feel an uncomfortable heat rise up his neck and to his ears, and when he rolled his pre-planned conversation in his head, his stomach flipped. Maybe he couldn't, shouldn't do this. He was probably rushing into this too quickly, and he might frighten her off.

But it wasn't for certain. If he never asked, he would never know.

A young, brown-haired man with intelligient, piercing blue eyes, Robert Crawley, clutched his hands behind his back, and with a few seconds of internal arguing, he took a deep breath and began the long trek down the hall. His footsteps were muted by the rug that trailed from one end to another, but it did not silent his thudding, pounding heart in his chest, growing louder in his ears as he approached her door. A dizzying amount of blood rushed to his paling face, and for a moment a cold fear shot up his spine when he couldn't bring himself to speak or knock.

"Dammit," he whispered, bowing his head. He leaned on one arm against the wall beside the door. "I can't do this."

Regret. He was about to turn around and leave, hoping to ignore this whole incident, but a voice from the other side of the door stopped him in his tracks.

"I - I do." It was Cora, speaking to her ladymaid. "He's very sweet and charming." Was there a note of uncertainty in her voice?

He blinked, surprised. Taking a hesitant step back, he wondered: Should he leave? Wasn't he eavesdropping? But he couldn't budge, he couldn't move his rooted legs away from the conversation that continued in the room beside him.

The ladymaid said something else, and Cora responded with a small sigh. "I don't know. Presuming he's busy. We haven't done much..." Her voice trailed off.

A stab of some emotion he didn't recognize pained him - hurt? love? He rested his head slightly on the door, shutting his eyes as he tried to figure out the staggering bundle of thoughts that washed over him.

The topic in the room changed, and there was obvious relief in Cora's voice. "Yes, the annual flower show. I hope I can come." She seemed like her spirits lifted, and he could practically see the classic, beautiful smile on her lips behind his eyelids. "I love the flowers at this time of year, all in bloom. I don't even mind the bees that come with it. To me, it's all worth it to see the flowers, especially the peonies. The white-pink ones are the most beautiful."

Robert opened his eyes, and smiled softly to himself. He pulled himself away from the door, and he walked away, purpose in his gait.

* * *

Night fell shortly after that morning, and dinner started and ended without any troubles. Robert excused himself from the table after everyone left, leaving his mind in a never-ending stream of thoughts and emotions from hours earlier.

On the way out, he had snatched the sloppy bouquet of flowers that sat in hiding behind an untouched closet door. After his little episode outside of Cora's room, he had ran off without a word to anyone else to the gardens that lay off of Downton Abbey's grounds. It took a lot of time to find the suitable, presentable flowers, and then it took several tries and failures plucking the flowers as cleanly as possible. He had to settle for the second-best flowers, for he ruined the best ones already. But hopefully, he tried to assure himself to little or no avail, it would make her happy enough.

For the second time that day, he was in front of his door, pumping himself up. But this time, he made sure he didn't have any time to backtrack, and he quickly and sharply knocked on the door before he could give up.

He would have rather had the door whipped open right after, but he had to wait in pain-staking silence as he waited for her to make towards the door. But his worries - almost all - left him and flew out the window when Cora opened the door.

"Mister Crawley, what a pleasant surprise." Cora stood in front of him in a ravishing silk black dress that flowed down her petite frame, tucking in nicely in all the right places. Her hair was still wet from her bath she must have taken before he arrived, and it was in a cute, messy bun. Her cheeks were slightly pink with exhaustion, but her genuine, delighted smile took him by him by surprise.

Poor Robert had to stop himself from gaping. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He felt the air in his lungs choking him, and his usually-puffed chest tightened and deflated. _Say something, fool!_ his mind screamed. But all he could manage was a flustered, disheveled smile that seemed too big on his face. Without thinking, his sweaty hands shot forward, clenching the bouquet as if it was the most important thing in the world.

Apparently not, because Cora's laugh practically swept him off his feet.

"White and pink peonies?" She took the flowers gently from his stunned, fidgeting fingers that held in the air for a moment before dropping swiftly to his sides with shameful respect. "They're very beautiful. Thank you so much, this is really thoughtful and kind of you." Hugging the flowers close to her body, and not minding the dirt and the drooping flowers, her smile lit up the oil-lit room.

"Y-yes," he gulped, trying to manage an acceptable, smaller smile. But he couldn't help it at all. He was grinning and blushing like the bumbling, love-struck idiot he was. "I mean, um, you're welcome, Miss Levinson," he stammered, making sure to address her as formally as possible.

They stared and smiled each other for a while more before Cora took hold of the door. "Well, thank you so much, again -"

"- Wait," he shot out, grabbing the door before she could shut it. "I was wondering if you could come with me to the flower show tomorrow - morning - if you want." The words spilled out of his mouth without him trying to stop it.

"I would love that." Now it was her turn to blush.

"Well, good, I'm, uh, happy." He wanted to kick himself. Letting go of the door, he removed himself from the doorway dutifully.

And then, as he turned his head, Cora leaned forward and gave him a tiny peck on his cheek.

Robert stood there dumbly as the door closed quietly behind him. The stupid grin returned to his face, and the feel of her lips lingered on his cheek that was now burning like searing fires. He didn't say anything more the rest of the night as he left in the darkness. But he didn't notice the blackness that hung over the house as it slipped in to sleep. His smile and his heart was bursting with light.

He stumbled his way back to his room.

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This is literally my favorite thing I've ever written for this fanfic. God. I really love this.


	9. The Teacher's Pet

School's starting on Monday (today's Saturday)! I don't know how I'll keep up with this, but I'll think of something... Maybe write it during school and then quickly type it up at home? Might work, but I'm afraid people will go through my stuff and find it (happened once). But overall, I'm afraid it'll be shorter and/or updated less frequently.

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Cora stared at herself through the mirror, admiring the silky new dark purple dress that Robert had bought her earlier that week when they went for a stroll. It complemented her dark hair and brought out her stormy blue eyes. Turning around in her leather-lined seat, her eyes met her ladymaid, Mrs. O'Brien. "Do you know where Robert is?" she beseeched, concerned. She had not seen him all morning, not in bed when she awoke or at the breakfast table when she arrived.

"My Lady, I was told that His Lordship went out to the village," O'Brien replied with not much emotion. Cora turned back to face the mirror, and O'Brien began tying Cora's hair back with her quick fingers.

"To see who?" she questioned after O'Brien finished, looking for anything that seemed off.

"Dr. Clarkson, I believe, to get glasses."

She said nothing in return, but her eyebrows raised in question. "I didn't know he was going today..." she murmured half to herself as her ladymaid was finishing up with her,

"To be honest, My Lady, I think His Lordship was rather keen on having Your Ladyship's complete knowledge of this to be nonexistent." O'Brien stood back as Cora twisted and turned to catch all the views of her new dress.

"Well, isn't that so?" Cora spun herself around, her dress flowing in the air. She abruptly stopped, satisfied with the little restriction of her dress, and she smiled and nodded at her ladymaid. "Thank you, O'Brien."

O'Brien ducked her head down in respect, and Cora watched as she left the room.

"Glasses, today?" Cora spoke aloud to herself in the empty room, thoughtful.

* * *

Robert gripped the door handle, and as quietly as possible, he slid the back door open. He stepped inside the cleaning room, casting wary glances around him. Once he realized he was alone in there, he relaxed a little, and he took his glasses off of his nose and stuffed them inside the given case.

"Robert?"

Cora saw him whirl around, surprise masking his face. She stood outside of the back door, her arms crossed in front of her. "Where were you?" she prompted, her voice giving no signs of her knowing.

He flashed her a meek smile, and with a flourish, he tipped his hat to his wife. "In the village, dear..." It sounded more like a question that an answer.

"With Doctor Clarkson?" She caught him, and they knew it.

Robert let out a sigh of defeat, and muttered, "Yes. For the glasses." He appeared genuinely upset and embarrassed.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going out this morning?" Cora asked, taking his hand into hers. "It's nothing to be so flustered about."

Like a guilty schoolboy, he slowly raised his shoulders in a tiny shrug as if that answered all her questions. "I don't know, dear. I'm sorry," he interjected.

She squeezed his arm and gave him a swift, small kiss on his lips, and he quietly returned it with a smile. Cora could practically see him feeling better as they looked at each other with intent and steady eyes.

"Well. Let me see you with them," she finally said, once they calmed down a bit.

"I'm afraid," he confessed, removing his new glasses from the case, "I look quite like a silly boy with them on." But nonetheless, at his wife's beckoning, he plopped the glasses on.

Wow. Her breath caught in her throat, and a small smile crept up to her lips. It was a fresh look for him, and not in a bad way at all. The wire-rimmed glasses made his cool-mannered blue eyes seem ever the more intelligent, and it suited his gentleman persona he proudly wore around with him.

"You look..." she breathed, more than attracted to him, "... Endearing."

"Endearing?" Always amused, Robert shook his head, his lock from his hair falling playfully over his forehead. A cheeky smile tugged on the corner of his lips, and his brow rose ever so lightly. He took her by her hands, drawing her closer to his body so he could whisper, "Judging by your response, I'm more than just 'endearing'."

"Well, yes." She pressed against his chest, peering up to his sweet eyes framed by his glasses, the lights in his eyes dancing. Reaching out with her index finger, she lowered his glasses down to the bottom of his nose.

Following suite, he tilted his chin down, the glasses resting right under his eyes and gave her a mock-serious look. "Miss Levinson," he rumbled, shocking her by saying her maiden name, "It seems you have yet another infraction."

"Yet again?" she gasped playfully, circling her arms around his neck, her fingers brushing the edge of his hair. "Do I have to meet you after class, Professor Crawley?" Cora made a fake pouting face, evoking a small laugh from the two of them.

He grinned lopsidedly, his hand cupping her cheek. "You know the rules," he murmured in a low, gravelly tone, his warm, soft breath reaching her cheeks. He leaned towards to plant a well-deserving kiss on the tip of her nose, and winked into her eyes. "And if you're late, you're twice in trouble, and I would have to arrange another meeting."

"You know me so well." She laughed into his salt-and-pepper hair, running her fingers the silky strands.

"I do, don't I?" Robert buried his chin into her shoulder, leaving a line of kisses on her neck. "I know everything about the teacher's pet."

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Some fluffy goodness for you guys. ;3

Don't forget to review!


	10. That Robert

Sorry for the long update! School started, and yeah.

In other news...

BRENDAN COYLE FAVED MY COLLAGE OF HIM ON TWITTER! OMFFF SO HAPPY DYING. I love him. asfhagl.

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**Imagine your OTP watching funny videos online, person A laughs so hard they lean their chair back too far and slips. Person B quickly, and miraculously catches Person A.**

"What is it that you're looking at, dear?" Robert had his hands rightfully behind his back, and he quietly stepped up to his wife, who was at the window. They were in the second floor room that overlooked Downton's garden.

Cora peered out through the clear window, the dark red curtains pinned to both sides of the wall, feeling his body move in closer from behind her. He looked over her shoulder, a curious, small frown playing on his face. Strong late-morning sunlight filtered down into the room, casting a yellow-white glow on the even-whiter carpet. They were dressed, but they decided to spend a little time relaxing in the room they shared together every night, keeping the windows wide open to let in the fresh spring air. The two read most of the time after they got up, but after Cora had finished her morning read she gazed out on the Downton garden and lawn.

"Your mother," she replied, a hint of amusement trembling in her voice, "And Mr. Molesley."

"Mother?" He was mildly surprised at the least. "And the Mr. Molesley from Cousin Isobel?" His face rose in question, and he tried to follow her eyes.

"Yes, and no. Mr. Molesley, with the rose bushes. His father."

There was the smallest of sighs from Robert. His shoulders slumped as if he was in defeat. "Is Mother showing off her flowers again?" he muttered lowly with a grim attitude, but his eyes betrayed him and flickered with humor.

"Poor Mr. Molesley. He can never get rid of her." Cora shook her head in exasperation, pressing the palm of her hand to the window's surface. Her hand seemed to touch the clouds that flew lazily in the sky.

He nudged her good-heartedly, and with a tiny, mock smug look on his face. "Poor Mr. Molesley? What about "poor Robert"?" he sniffed.

"The Robert I know doesn't need any help with his mother." She shot him a big smile, one laced with genuine teasing.

"Well, that Robert has a witch of a mother," he countered, rolling his eyes for effect. "She's the Dowager Countess of Grantham, after all."

"Well, that Robert shouldn't still have mother-issues. What, is that Robert weak?" Cora bit her lip and smirked.

"Weak?! That Robert -" He cut himself off, and shook his head from side to side, utterly baffled with where their conversation was heading. He was determined not to make a fool of himself; Cora almost always won by far. "Why are we speaking in third person?"

He stood there, waiting. But Cora said nothing in reply, and instead she started to drift her attention away from him and towards Violet and Mr. Molesley outside.

"Now, what is it?" Robert finally spoke, not really watching what was happening outside, and more or less kept his eyes on Cora in front of him. Good god, what a beauty she was. He loved how concentrated she could be at times. Her motherly brown eyes would narrow to the slightest slits, and she looked almost dangerous. Of course in a good way. Slowly, he cleared his throat softly and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands coming together at the front. He held her tight against his sturdy body and began to warmly hum under his breath, just barely swaying from side to side and pulling her with his movement. His eyes started to close, enjoying the sweet scent of his wife against him.

"Robert! Quiet! Stop!" Like a striking cobra, Cora suddenly intervened, roughly breaking free from his embrace. He staggered back, bewildered for a moment.

"What?" For crying out loud! He sighed once more, using his hand to brush himself down.

She huddled closer to the window, almost muttering to herself. "No... That can't be..." she whispered with shock, "I..."

"What?" Robert repeated, looking up in worry. He stopped smoothing the wrinkles in his clothes and took a wavering step towards the window. "Is -"

"- Oh, heavens!" But instead of screaming bloody murder - perhaps Violet viciously killed Mr. Molesley in a duel over the better flowers with her studded cane - tears of laughter immediately sprang from her eyes. "I can't believe it! Dear god!" she exclaimed, laughing loudly while hugging her stomach. Her high-pitched squeals bounced off the walls, filling their eyes. It was certainly un-ladylike, but Cora seemed unable to control herself. "Mr. Molesley had dumped a pot of dirt on Cousin Violet! And now she's coming after him with her cane!"

Robert couldn't help but grin widely and caught the furious Violet shooting across the garden's paths like a hawk. For an old woman, she could be a very formidable and fearful opponent when angered. Poor Mr. Molesley, who must have been harassed too much for his liking, seemed paler than a sheet, and was trying to evade the Dowager by criss-crossing through several patches of flowers, not even caring if he crashed over them.

"Goodness...!" He could barely speak, not wanting to disrupt the chase that was happening as they spoke. His eyes and mouth flew open, completely taken aback by the amount of un-ladylike qualities shown that today.

Cora was still laughing, clutching her sides as she stumbled backwards. She appeared like she was going to burst. Never in a long, long time had she let off such joy.

How could he even be embarrassed? How soon would it be until the staff barged through the door, shouting for any injuries? "Cora, dear, contain yourself!" Robert was now chuckling, but mostly out of how ridiculous Cora was, practically laughing her head off. What even caused this? Surely something like a little fight and chase couldn't set her off this much? But it was probably the surprising moment of a usually-stern and poised British upperclassman being seen flying off the hinges that made it more funnier than anything else. Never before had anyone imagined something close to this would ever happen, especially over just flower competition.

His wife was then letting out yelps of pain, her sides hurting too much. It was a mix of laughs and cries, and it caused even an uproarious laugh from Robert himself. The two leaned on each other; mostly Cora, though - she could barely stand upright.

"Look at them run!" Robert yelled at the top of his lungs, drunk on her crazy yet beautiful laughter. He flipped into announcer-mode, acting as if he was viewing an intense Derby race. His leaned right at the window at her side, his face a mere inch from the glass as he took everything in from their two-story viewpoint of the whole garden. " 'Round the bend they go! Ol' Molesley in the front, just barely reaching the end of the lawn! And the Dowager, close behind, ready for a bite! Here they come! Watch out everyone!"

"Robert - stop it! Please!" Cora shook her head wildly as more laughs spilled out of her, trying to suppress herself to no avail. But when one too many laughs racked her body, she slipped over her own two feet, tumbling down towards the thin white carpet that spread on the dark hardwood floor.

Instantly, due to his lightning-quick reflexes honed from the African war, Robert swooped down on his knees, catching her in his ready arms. He didn't sag one bit, and the force and impact knocked the air out of Cora's lungs, stopping her from laughing. She didn't let out a scream or cry, and she just laid frozen in his steady grasp, her mouth gasping open like a stunned fish. Her eyes traveled to his scared face.

"Not so weak, am I, Cora?" he rumbled gently in the deepest of tones, gazing down into her open eyes.

She met his eyes back. A small, thankful smile grazed her crinkled face, the lines of laughter subsiding. "Not at all, Robert."

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Thank you so much for reading! As always, reviews welcomed! Expect the next update in a few days, maybe less. :)


	11. The Midnight Train

Please review, guys!

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**Imagine your OTP in different countries, and Person staying up very late just to see Person B on webcam.**

"I do not mean to be rude in the slightest, Your Ladyship, but you should be going to bed now." Leaning forward to speak, Mr. Carson's eyebrows furrowed together in a worrisome bunch.

Cora waved him off without much thought. She tapped her tiny stirring spoon on the china plate thoughtfully. "It's perfectly all right, Carson. I just want to wait a little longer." She rearranged herself in the seat tried to sit back and relax. They were in the dining room by themselves, the other guests and her daughters off already. She stayed behind to drink some tea in silent thought, waiting for a sign of his existence. Downton was much more quieter than usual, deprived of the loud, pride-filled voice of the Lord that always rang with such warmth and demand.

Carson watched her with experienced, steady eyes as he stood politely on the other side of the room, his arms dutifully at his side. But he wasn't one to back down too easily. "But, Your Ladyship, it might be a very long wait until we get a telegram. There might not even be a telegram."

Apparently, neither was she. Her eyes rose to meet his face in almost like a challenge. "Thank you, Carson, but I know Robert well enough to know that he wouldn't go a day without saying a word to me." Her voice ended sharply. But when she finished, she winced inwardly at the harshness in her voice. She turned around in her seat to face the grim-faced butler. "I'm sorry, Carson, I didn't mean to snap."

He visibly stood up straighter, and he cleared his throat. "No need to apologize, My Lady," he replied in his most regal tone, and that was that.

Together, lady and butler waited for the rest of the night.

* * *

"I'll think I'll go to bed now," Cora admitted in defeat, her hope deflated like the very last balloon at a scrapped fairground. It was well past eleven o' clock at night, and her eyelids were drooping dangerously low. Why, she could barely keep her head up from the table. Quietly, she stood up and left the room, and loyal Carson nodded as she passed him out.

On her way up the long trek up the stairs, she thought tiredly, _I wonder what's keeping him? He has always said something before now. What if he's in trouble? No, no._ Cora had to shake her head to herself, feeling reassured only a teeny bit. _He's not that stupid. Robert's probably too tired._ She couldn't help but yawn, interrupting her rambling thoughts.

At the top of the stairs, she almost fainted when a hard hand grabbed her by the shoulder. Spinning around, it was Carson who was shaking her.

"Your Ladyship! Please watch your step!" he bellowed, trying to haul her away from the leering edge of the precarious stair case.

His voice blurred in her mind. Her brain could barely pick up or register anything. She could barely hear him fussing over her, making sure she was fine. By now, her eyes had shut completely, and she was shaking on her feet.

"Where's Mrs. O'Brien?" she thought he muttered under his breath as she felt herself being led and dragged to her room down the hallway.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Carson was waiting at her bedside, a good distance away. He wasn't looking at her at all, but he stared intently at the blank wall across from him in respectful silence. After he noticed her stirring in her bed, he came at once to her side to probe her with questions.

He said it was disrespectful for him to tend to her in place of a lady's maid, but Mrs. O'Brien had to sleep in sick. Since no one else was up and awake, he felt it was even more disrespectful to leave her alone. And so then he stayed in the room, leaving her to sleep until Robert would return later the next day, or until a maid woke up.

Cora smiled softly at this, blinking away the fogginess in her sight. "Thank you, Carson. You've been very kind to me," she croaked, her voice stiff from exhaustion. She tried to sit upright to properly excuse him, but she couldn't bear to move the comfortable position she was in, tucked under the warm bed sheets.

"And," Carson began, stepping up towards her with something in hand, "A telegram."

"Oh, Robert," she breathed, relief flooding her. A grateful smile grew on her, and she took the letter and opened it quickly, wasting no time to take in the words. "Oh, he's all right," she choked, holding her hand to her mouth, and she couldn't hide the happiness in her voice as she read.

_Cora, love,_

_The meeting in Liverpool went better than I had expected. Mr. Harold and I settled on a manageable price without too much debate. I am on my way on the midnight train, so do not fret or worry at all, dear. In barely any time, I'll be back with Downton, and, of course, you._

_I apologize dearly for this brief telegram. Wish you and the girls well._

_Robert_

* * *

Here's some sweet, fluffy goodness. ^^ With Carson!

Again, please review!


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